Yer's an' Mine
by ZombieSam
Summary: Is it worth it anymore? Rating may change.
1. Chapter 1

**AN **Okay, this is my first TWD story, and I don't think its started off bad. Of course, I have a bad track record with keeping up with my stories, but hopefully my passion for this show will drive me. There will probably be several grammar and/ or spelling mistakes. I don't proof read at all. Look at me rabblin'. Ugh. Happy reading, hope you enjoy!

**I do not own Walking Dead. Daryl would be mine.**

There were dozens of things that could go wrong in a zombie apocalypse. Something as simple as one of their cars breaking down, forcing them to hijack a new one, to losing one of their own to any number of things.

She had learned to accept that life was never going back to normal - at least not during her life. She had come to terms with that long ago.

But this... this was a whole new page in her fucked up life. No, page didn't quite cover how fucked up this was. This was a new chapter, blinding her to all the things she had learned to life for. Everything seemed dim, dull, worthless. Life wasn't worth living anymore.

Not even for him.

She had every reason to end her life now. Every damn reason. No one would blame her for choosing the easy way out. Hell, they would probably be jumping from joy in a matter of minutes. One less mouth to feed. One less ass to cover. One less person to worry about. Every reason

They needed her share of food now that the baby had come along. The poor thing was skinand bones already. That was her fault. Her fault for consuming the life giving food that Lori needed to nurse the baby.

Such a damn good reason to end it all now. Give one old, tired life for a fresh, new life.

But, in reality, she was beling completekly selfish in her reasons. This was all for her. So she didn't have to life this miserable life anymore. All the other excuses were vain attempts at shifting the blame onto someone that did not deserve it. All she wanted was a normal life. She had never gotten the chance to experience a single day of it. It just wasn't fair.

YaM

She hugged her knees to her chest in the dim room, the gun dangling from her fingers. Was this something she could do? Was she strong enough, brave enough, noble enough to take her own life and leave her few worldly possessions to someone else that needed them?

Maybe she should just take off into the woods; fall prey to something out _there._

The door opened quietly, and she tensed, fearing he was back for round two. Or was it four? She wasn't sure - it all ran together. All a big black mess, begging to be forgotten. Maybe she would die during this, and she wouldn't have to worry about offing herself. There was no way her body could stand the abuse he dealt out any longer. It was too weak. Her spirit was too weak. She would give out this time. If she didn't die from it this time, maybe they would put a bullet through her skull out of pity. That would be okay.

The hand that landed on her shoulder was rough, calloused, but gentle, and she knew immediately which man of the group it was. The only one that showed any interest in her well-being. The only one that seemed to care.

But she didn't want him there. Any second, he would notice the gun hanging from her hand. She didn't want him to see her life this. He had his own rough hand to deal with, and he didn't need to be worrying about her as well. He deserved someone that wasn't broken. Someone that could handle themself somewhere other than the kitchen. Like the bedroom. He deserved someone like Andrea. She would be good for him. Nice, strong spirit. Pretty. Young. Deserving.

"The hell a doin' with that?" he questioned. She didn't - couldn't - look at him. She was afraid of what she would see in those eyes. Afraid she would lose what little resolve she had built up and back out. She couldn't do that to him. His life would be so much easier without worrying if she was okay. He could go on, and survive through this. Grow old, and die normally, without the fear of turning into a monster.

Fresh tears welled in her eyes. Funny. She thought she had cried herself out. There was no way her body could continue to produce them. Now way. She was far too dehydrated.

She sighed as they followed the trails left by the tears cried not long ago. "You know, Daryl," she whispered. He heard though. She knew the second his hand tightened on her shoulder. But she knew he wouldn't stop her, not if it was what she really wanted.

"Why?" It was odd to hear his gruff voice so quiet, so... soft and caring. Suddenly, his knees were in her view, the his chest, and finally his face. The handsome, gloriously male face she sought out in a room full of people.

Her body rocked with sudden, feirce sobs, and he awkwardly drew her into him, patting her back like he didn't have a damn clue what he was doing. He probably didn't.

"I can't do it anymore. I c-can't. Today showed me that. I can't do it. I just can't. I'm not meant for this kind of life. Everyone would be better off without me. You would be better off without m-" he cut her words off with a hand over his mouth. She could still smell the blood from his last kill on his skin, but it was all him - all man.

"Ya don't get ta fuckin' tell me what's best fer me. I tell ya what's best fer me. Yer life's what's best fer me. You die, I die. I'm not stayin' in this crazy fucked up world without ya. So make the choice right now, Carol. Yer life an' mine, its up ta you."

He never said her name.


	2. Chapter 2

The sun was shining brightly. A smile stretched from one side of her face to the other. The warm rays seeped deep into her bones and invigorated her. They had driven her from the comfort of her sleeping bag, nestled close beside his, and urged her from a peaceful sleep. He was already gone, of course. She rarely woke before Daryl. But that was okay, because he came back to her every night.

She was light on her feet, twirling around the campsite. The others were giving her odd looks, thinking her crazy, but she didn't really care. Nothing in particular had lifted her spirits. Spirits that deserved to be lying deep in the ground, miles behind them, in a grave dug for her only daughter. Maybe it was the warmth of the morning air, or the smell of fresh spring daisies, or maybe it was that Daryl had finally proclaimed her as his the night before. Maybe it was a combination of the three, but she felt a reason to live once more.

The group had changed recently. Andrea had disappeared, along with a great many of their guns. They met up on the road some months later. Merle had found them one night as they were camped on the side of the road. Then there was Michael, and his young daughter, Kerrey, had found them holed up in an old farmhouse. Then Megan had come along, with a pack of geeks on her heels. They had lost one that night, T-Dog. She could still feel the dull ache in her chest. He had been a constant in her recent life, and she missed him dearly. And then Lori had had the baby in a dingy roadside motel. They named him Wayne.

They had all taken the changes in stride, though, and had moved on. Carl and Kerrey had grown closer, a budding romance. It gave her hope for the future.

YaM

They had holed up in a cabin on a lakeside somewhere in where they estimated was Michigan. The fishing was good, and Daryl had bagged several of the deer that had reclaimed the lands. They had started to regain the weight they had so severely lost when another herd came through, scaring off the game and the group. They packed quickly and hit the road.

YaM

For the night, they had set up their camp beside a small house. They had swapped stories of past lives that they had all heard a dozen or more times before, but were always willing to listen to again. Life passed slowly in a zombie apocalypse, and they didn't usually mind listening to the same old story over and over. Most of them had grown closer than family.

Not everyone was willing to partake in the group sittings, though. Merle, who couldn't understand why Daryl had grown to love the people that had left his big brother behind, held them all in the same basket. He hated them all. Not one person could walk by the stocky man without earning a sneer and a smartass comment. Herself included. She had been the butt of his remarks more times than anyone, except maybe Rick or Glenn. He hated her especially, because he had lost his baby brother to her.

So she put up with his antics. His slurs, his sexist remarks, his wandering eyes, and his groping hand, because she knew that if there was anyone in the world that Daryl Dixon loved, it was his brother. Not that she had the gall to react to him, anyway. She had grown more confident being around Daryl, who purposely pushed her buttons to draw a fight out of her, but there was no way she would even dream of standing up to someone like Merle Dixon. He was exactly like Ed, and he wouldn't put up with lip from anyone, let alone a woman half his size, and several times weaker. And she definitely wasn't going to broach the subject with Daryl, not when he was still in a euphoric high about getting his family back.

The camp had been a flurry of activity as everyone prepared their things to move again. She had been inside, the only one inside, searching through cupboards and cabinets, searching for things that would be useful in the days to come.

She hadn't expected for the man to corner her when she was inside the house, to press her against the wall and force himself all over her. To force himself into her, and relieve himself, leaving her broken on the floor. If she had, she could have easily pulled the gun strapped to her waist and free herself from the situation. But he had come at her so fast, and with so little hostility. She hadn't expected any of it, and there wasn't a soul around to help her. There was nothing she could do but sob and pray for it to end.

She had stayed there for God knows how long. He had returned not long after, and went at her again. Slammed her against the floor, slapped her face when she struggled, broken a rib when she called out. Bruises littered her entire body, and every movement brought tears to her eyes.

Was this what she had been reduced to? A plaything for the men of the group? Something to be used and abused, and tossed to the side. Her earlier feelings of elation had flown out the window.

There were dozens of things that could go wrong in a zombie apocalypse. Something as simple as one of their cars breaking down, forcing them to hijack a new one, to losing one of their own to any number of things.

She had learned to accept that life was never going back to normal - at least not during her life. She had come to terms with that long ago.

But this... this was a whole new page in her fucked up life. No, page didn't quite cover how fucked up this was. This was a new chapter, blinding her to all the things she had learned to life for. Everything seemed dim, dull, worthless. Life wasn't worth living anymore.

Not even for him.


	3. Chapter 3

**AN: **Wow. You probably won't see such a quick update from me this often. Enjoy it.

YaM

"The hell ya doin' with that?" he questioned. She didn't - couldn't - look at him. She was afraid of what she would see in those eyes. Afraid she would lose what little resolve she had built up and back out. She couldn't do that to him. His life would be so much easier without worrying if she was okay. He could go on, and survive through this. Grow old, and die normally, without the fear of turning into a monster. He wouldn't have to worry anymore about watching his back and hers. Making sure she was always safe, and that no boogeyman had crept up on them.

Fresh tears welled in her eyes. She thought she had cried herself out. There was no way her body could continue to produce them. No way. She was far too dehydrated. Water was scarce on the road. She never drank her entire share, preferring to slip it to Daryl or Lori, or one of the kids. They needed it so much more than she did.

She sighed as they followed the trails left by the tears cried not long ago. "You know, Daryl," she whispered. He heard though, loud and clear. She knew he had heard the second his hand tightened on her shoulder. But she knew he wouldn't stop her, not if it was what she really wanted. He was the first to preach that everyone's opinion was their own opinion. He wouldn't take anyone else's opinion from them, even if it was her.

"Why?" It was odd to hear his gruff voice so quiet, so... soft and caring. Suddenly, his knees were in her view, then his chest, and finally his face. The handsome, gloriously male face she sought out in a room full of people. His face was the first she looked for in the morning, even though she knew he wasn't there. His day started much earlier than hers.

Her body rocked with sudden, fierce sobs, and he awkwardly drew her into him, patting her back like he didn't have a damn clue what he was doing. He probably didn't.

"I can't do it anymore. I c-can't. Today showed me that. I can't do it. I just can't. I'm not meant for this kind of life. Everyone would be better off without me. You would be better off without m-" he cut her words off with a hand over his mouth. She could still smell the blood from his last kill on his skin, but it was all him - all man.

"Ya don't get ta fuckin' tell me what's best fer me. I tell ya what's best fer me. Yer life's what's best fer me. You die, I die. I'm not stayin' in this crazy fucked up world without ya. So make the choice right now, Carol. Yer life an' mine, it's up ta you."

She had never heard him say her name, and it was a shock to hear it now, in his rough, gravelly masculine voice.

She forced her hands up between them, pushing herself away from his solid chest. She shook with sobs she couldn't contain, and scooted away. His expression immediately switched to hurt, but she couldn't let it affect her. "No! Don't do this to me Daryl!" She swung at him when he tried to approach, and he withdrew, throwing his hands up in surrender. "You c-can survive in this place! I c-can't! I'm not going to h-hang around and be everyone's f-fucktoy."

As the shock registered on his face, she buried hers in her palms. She dug her grimy fingernails into her forehead, trying to draw the pain she felt to a new spot. It wasn't intense enough, she wasn't pressing hard enough, her nails weren't sharp enough. She pulled her hands down the length of her face. Anything to distract her.

His hands were on her wrists suddenly, pulling her hands away. "The fuck're you talkin' bout? You ain't nobody's fucktoy, hear?" He gripped both of her wrists in one large hand, and pressed the other to her face. It was calloused, and rough with dirt, but his touch was nothing but tender. Nevertheless, she flinched away, and his brow furrowed deeper. "Wha' happened while I was gone, Carol?"

She knew that he already knew. She could tell by the way his hand had tightened around her wrists. She could tell by the way her neck had tensed to keep his hand from repositioning his neck. But she also knew that if she told him, if she told him a name, the group would shrink one more person they desperately needed to survive.

So she shook her head, signaling that she wasn't going to tell, despite the tears that streamed down her face, and the pain aching deep in her body. He had been through so much, seen so much, that she couldn't bear to have him place yet another person's life on his shoulders. There was only so much a man could take.

He wasn't having any of it, though. If he would let the matter drop, he would have already stormed from the room, breaking things along the way, and throwing every curse word he could think of over his shoulder. But he was still there, kneeling in front of her, holding her face like an anchor. "Woman, ya either tell me who, or I'ma go out there and bust every ass I see. Ya wan' 'em all ta pay?"

She twisted her hands free, and gripped his forearms. Her eyes locked with his, pleading with him, begging him not to do anything, just to sit with her. But he was tense, and he was angry, and he wanted nothing more than to bust his fist against the poor fucker's skull. She could see it in the squint of his eyes, the hard glint covering the calm blue, the crinkles on his face, the hard set of his shoulders. She couldn't let him do this. He would regret it one day, once he had had time to calm down and rationalize what he had done.

"Tell me, dammit!" he shouted, clenching his jaw when she flinched again. Then it clicked. "Merle?"


	4. Chapter 4

**AN: **This one gets a _tiny _bit vulgar closer to the end. And by tiny, I mean Daryl Dixon.

YaM

"Tell me, dammit!" he shouted, clenching his jaw when she flinched again. Then it clicked. "Merle?"

She froze in his grasp, and knew automatically it was the wrong reaction. Before she could utter a sound of protest, he had pulled her to her feet, and lifted her thin form into his muscled arms. His jaw was clenched as he carried her from the house, bridal style, paying no attention to the weak punches she threw against his chest or her half-hearted shoves. She knew she wasn't getting away.

"Merle!" he yelled, the veins popping in his neck, his mouth opened wide to release his thundering, booming voice. "Merle! Get yer fuckin' ass over here right now! Merle!" She brought her hands to cover ears, and he barely glanced down at the action.

It didn't take long for Merle to lumber into Daryl's eyesight, and she felt him tense all over again. He had yet to put her down, and she was drawn closer to his chest as his muscles contracted. Her struggles grew more desperate as she tried to gain his attention. He saw it as fear, though, and his anger tripled.

She watched the red creep from his collarbone to his cheeks. Steam was practically rolling from his ears. "Wha' the fuck did you do, ya piece a' shit?" His spit landed on her arm, and she realized in that instant just how angry Daryl was. There had been several times she had seen Daryl angry, but he had never been spitting mad. Until that moment, she had believed it to be an old saying. There had never been a time she had actually watched saliva fly from a person's mouth from anger.

He chose that moment to place her on her own two feet, maybe realizing that she was a hindrance to his anger. He couldn't punch as long as she was in his arms.

He stomped away from her, despite her knocking knees and trembling hands. "Daryl," she called out weakly, but he didn't so much as bat an eyelash. She could feel the tears building in her eyes, but she didn't try to hold them back. "Daryl, please." Her voice sounded weak to her own ears. There was no way he could hear her, not in the state he was in.

A crowd had started to gather around the three of them, and she looked to Rick pleadingly. He stood between Glenn and Andrea, his arms crossed over his chest, observing the scene calmly. He offered no help, and her gaze switched to the young man beside him, but Glenn merely switched from one foot to the other. No one wanted to get between the two hot-headed brothers. She looked to every member of the group, but no one stepped forward.

Her attention shifted back to the brothers, and she wringed her hands nervously. She took a hesitant step toward them, trying to figure the best course of action.

They traded verbal abuses like they had been born to do nothing else, and she took another glance around the gathered group. By the time she had looked back, Merle had grown red too, angered by his brother's accusation.

She stretched her arm towards the two men, her fingers landing lightly on Daryl's arm. He whirled to face her, and her eyes jerked down from his. She noticed traces of spittle clinging to the ends of his hair. "It wasn't Merle."

He looked from her to his brother, the red fading slowly from his face. The fury was there, hidden only by the light covering of confusion. "Why the fuck didn't ya say somethin'?" He looked like a lost pup, and she felt herself start to shiver. There had never been a time, not even when Ed still lived, that she felt as horrible as she did in that second. Not even when Sophia had shambled from the barn had she felt this kind of pain. They were totally different. The look on Daryl's face, the question in his eyes, reminded her of the time when she was thirteen, and accidentally kicked her puppy.

"I t-ried." Oh, it was such a miserable situation. Why had he had to find her? Why couldn't he have been just a few minutes later. She had been so close to ending it all, eliminating the pain, and erasing her existence from their lives. "Oh, Daryl. It wasn't Merle. It wasn't Merle. It really wasn't Merle." Her hands found the fabric covering his chest, and she clenched it as tightly as she could manage. "Daryl, it wasn't Merle."

Her eyes slid to the left, where Michael stood beside his daughter, and Daryl's gazed followed. He reached up gingerly and pried her fingers from his shirt. He pushed her from him, and once he was positive she was safely away, he dropped his shoulder and charged the other man.

It was like something from a movie. Her hands flew to her mouth as Daryl's shoulder plunged into the man's stomach and he lifted him from the ground. Even with the distance between them, she could hear the solid thud as Michael hit the ground and the air rushed from his lungs. Daryl wasted no time straddling the man's chest and pinning his arms with his knees. His fists connected a dozen times with the younger man's face before Rick and Glenn could pry them apart. Daryl struggled against their grips, struggling to get back to his task. He wanted nothing more than to pound him into dust.

Rick's right hand came up to slap Daryl across the face, momentarily bringing his attention to the new danger. "Stop it, dammit!" She watched as Daryl shrugged from their grips, fighting to contain himself. "Now, Daryl, tell us what happened."

He grew red in the face again, and leaned around Rick to point at Michael, who still lay on the ground. "That motha fucker raped her, Rick." He hissed, his face inches from Rick's. "He fuckin' raped her. An' where tha fuck were you at, when he was havin' his fuckin' way with her? Where tha fuck were you when he slammed her against tha wall an' shoved his fuckin' dick in her? Shavin' your fuckin' face or fuckin' yer wife?"


	5. Chapter 5

**AN: **I don't know if they're slackening in impressiveness or not. I'm just trying to shoot out chapters before I start slacking again and leave everything alone for months. So, sorry guys.

YaM

He grew red in the face again, and leaned around Rick to point at Michael, who still lay on the ground. "That motha fucker raped her, Rick." He hissed, his face inches from Rick's. "He fuckin' raped her. An' where tha fuck were you at, when he was havin' his fuckin' way with her? Where tha fuck were you when he slammed her against tha wall an' shoved his fuckin' dick in her? Shavin' your fuckin' face or fuckin' yer wife?"

Rick's gaze slid from Daryl's face to where she stood, trembling, with a river running down her face. He looked astonished, as though he didn't want to believe what he was hearing. Michael was a man that they had all grown to trust, and had accepted as a member of their family. After everything the group had been through together, they couldn't believe that he would do something so horrible to them. By hurting Carol, he had hurt and betrayed them all.

Rick's eyes traveled the length of her body, trying to determine if what Daryl had suggested was true. Finally, after what seemed like an hour, with her face a flaming red, he turned to face Michael. Lori stepped to her, and drew her body to her own as though she could protect her. After everything, now she wanted to protect her.

"You need to leave," Rick's voice carried the short distance to them. Everything was silent around them. Even the birds had ceased to sing, like they were listening too. "I suggest leaving soon. We won't stop him again."

The young man scrambled against the ground, trying to get his feet beneath him before Daryl charged him again. He knew he didn't stand a chance against the redneck, not when he was as fueled as he was. They all knew that Daryl wouldn't stop if he got his hands on him again.

Michael reached for his daughter, fingers twitching. "C'mon, Kerrey, we're leaving now." It was Glenn that stepped forward this time, his arm encircling the young girl.

"You're shitting if you think we're goina let you take her with you." He brought his hands up to cover the girl's ears. "If you took the opportunity to fuck someone weaker than you once, I know you'll do it again. I'm not goina let you put your daughter through that." He slid him hands to her shoulders, gripping lightly. "No, you're leaving. She's staying."

It looked like he was going to object for a moment, but the Asian had the backing of the entire group. He had no one any longer. So he gave up, without a fight. As the man walked away, Carol heard a _hmph_, and knew it had come from Rick. No father should be so willing to walk away from the only family they had left, let alone someone that had been spawned by them.

The men stood strong, their spines straight. They didn't move an inch until Michael had been out of sight for at least twenty minutes. They barely breathed, their hands clenched at their sides. She was instantly glad that these men were her friends. She was glad that their anger wasn't directed at her, because she surely would have crumbled in a matter of seconds.

Daryl turned to her, and her eyes were drawn to hers. She knew they were bloodshot, and tears were streaming down her face, and there was probably snot dripping from her nose, but his gaze held nothing but concern.

Slowly, he opened his arms in a silent offering. Gently, she shrugged from Lori's embrace, and started toward him. She wasn't sure when it happened, but all of a sudden, she was running, and launching herself into his arms. They curved around her waist, drawing her into him. He had never been one for public displays, but he could sense how much she needed _him_ in that moment, and he didn't want to disappoint her.

She pressed her face into his chest, trying to subdue her raucous sobbing. Her shoulders shook against his arms, and he tightened his hold. "Shh," he whispered in her ear, trying desperately to calm her. "Shh."

He brought his left hand to the back of her head, sliding his hand down in a soothing gesture. He wasn't good at this kind of thing, but she didn't seem to care. It seemed that she was content to just be held, to be allowed to cry herself out.

YaM

They had long since sunk to the ground, with her sitting safely between his knees. She had been leaning solidly against his chest when he had started to notice that her crying was decreasing in strength and volume. Now she sat sideways, her right hand laying in her lap, her left hand gripping his shirt, and her head pressed against his collarbone, sound asleep.

He was content to lean back and stare at the sky while she rested, thinking the day over. He knew Merle was going to give him hell for his accusation, but he couldn't really bring himself to care.

Even as he thought of his bear of a brother, the man lumbered around a cluster of trees and advanced quickly. His steps were silent. He took into consideration that Carol was sleeping against his baby brother's chest, and a smirk stretched his mouth. Daryl grimaced, knowing that Merle wasn't going to let it go, even for a little while.

"Well, well, little brother," he said as he sank to the ground beside him, and Daryl rolled his eyes. "Looks like ya finally found someun more important than yer big brother. An' a lil' bitch, ta top it off! Don'tcha think ya coulda done a lil' better? Wha' about that perty lil' blonde lady? Ya tapped that?"

His jaw clenched, trying to refrain from saying anything. He knew Merle was trying to get a rise out of him, but he wasn't going to give him the satisfaction. He would keep his mouth shut, and eventually Merle would get tired and leave. They had played this game many times in the past. Daryl was proud to say he won the majority at the time. Merle was the one person that was more impatient than he was.

His brother chuckled beside him. "C'mon, Darlina. Gimme the scoop. How many a 'ems a good lay? Ain't gotta be great, but I done wanna be doin' all tha work." He shoved him abruptly, startling Carol awake. She looked between a fuming Daryl and a grinning Merle, before her face grew red and she stood. Her awakening had obviously interrupted something. Daryl squinted at Merle before he stood after her, and placed his hand on the small of her back to lead her away. He threw a look over his shoulder, warning his big brother not to follow. He doubted Merle would listen.


End file.
